Craving Touches
by Little-Firestar84
Summary: She was naked, only his shirt was missing. She needed him and his touch, to feel alive, loved, wanted and beatiful, but mostly she needed him because she couldn't aknowledge the fact that there was only one man she wanted to be with. Sp.3.7 JISBON 3 of 3
1. Chapter 1

Oh, yes, the damn disclaimer: seriosuly, do we really have to do it? Because, Jeez, if I'd own them, I'd not be here writing it, I'd be the writeer of a TV Shows and, well, we'd have the LIsbon romance for real...meanwhile, I just **_"write, draw, create, dream, hope and believe in Bruno, waiting for him to be blessed bu the light of reason..." _**(No, this discalimer isn't mine, it belongs to one fo the girls who wite Mentalist fiction on the italian site efpfiction, but don't tell me many of you don't share this vision...).

that's a three part story, a different intake at the events at the end of 3.7- which I hated. I just hope thuings went as I pictured them here-nothing against mash, but Lis simply belongs to Jane, point.

It was menat to be a bit short-the first version I wrote was more or less 800 words (and I almost published it), but, as always, as i tiped it, I started to add and add and add, so, here I am, with almost 2200 words.

* * *

He was still almost completely clothed, only his shirt was missing, allowing Lisbon to feel his well toned, smooth and slightly tanned chest under her hungry fingertips.

On her part, the only piece of clothes she still had on was a tiny pair of panties, green silk and lacy, a matching set that went along with her already missed and from a while discharged bra, and even that was about to be removed with quite an urgency. As much as she wanted him, he wanted her more, always have… When he finally was able to throw away the piece of lingerie, he started to make marvels on her whole body with his hands, lips and tongue… under his touch, under him, Lisbon felt relieved, felt happy, beautiful, wanted, loved, even…

She was melting under his soft and expert touches, urging the man to get rid of his clothes. She needed this, she wanted this, and she wanted to have it with him. He wanted as well, but he wanted to play a little first, and wanted her to enjoy it. He wanted for them to have fun; he wanted to see the both of them satisfied after their encounter.

Grinning, looking at her blissful expression of delight, he spread her legs open, and lowering himself, he positioned his head between them. His hands cupped her breasts, his fingers started to stroke the tender flash of her nipples, hardening them under his strokes. He sucked her femininity for few moments that she thought were never over, until, finally, he penetrated her with his tongue, still grinning against her pelvis, stimulating the sensitive nerves. She cried out in pleasure as he did it.

With her eyes shout, she started to purr, moan, and breath heavily, moving her hips along with him, with the thrusts of his tongue inside her, mimicking a movement she hoped to feel soon, a movement she wanted and needed to feel soon. She was prisoner of the ecstasy he was bringing her. He was fucking her with his tongue, and as much as she loved it, she wanted him to fuck her for real; she craved his hardness inside of her. Smiling content, she put her hands in his hair, stalling his movements, trying to move his head away from her folds, to make him understand what she wanted.

The man on top of her, though, didn't seem to get the message, too lost in his own world, and kept pleasuring her with his mouth. But it wasn't his tongue she wanted inside of her, it wasn't with his tongue that she wanted to be fucked; oral sex wasn't what she needed, not now, at least. Now she needed to be really, royally, fucked by this man, to get over weeks and months of sexual frustration.

"Please, drop it… you know what I need… just fuck me for real… please, Jane…" she moaned, before feeling the man on top of her retreating.

She sat in front of him, unable to keep eye-contact, feeling the sudden need to cover her nudity with the covers. She didn't need to look at him to know he was shocked. Hell, she was shocked as well. And she was embarrassed and sorry.

"Apparently, I'm losing my touch…" he tried to joke and be positive, running slender fingers through his short hair, his eyes focused not on Lisbon but on the pavement. He wanted to be causal about it, but it was hard, and new. It was the second time a woman turned him down, and both times it had been Teresa Lisbon to pull away from him and his invitations. He knew they had both agreed on just a single one night stand, but he hoped in few repeat performances. After all, they were having fun, that, until she had moaned that name, begging another man for a sexual release, a man who wasn't the one who was having sex with her. "But it's ok, really, we're both adults. I can stand it. Besides, it's not the first time a woman moans someone else's name while we are going at it, so no big deal, really."

"No, it's not ok" she hissed between her teeth, mad not with this man who, despite the appearance, was being nice, but herself and Patrick Jane "it's not ok when it's years that I can't have a date because my mind is always focused on him! It's not ok that I can't sleep at night nor eat properly because I'm worried about him all the time! It's not ok that I can't have sex because every time I'm with someone, I have to retreat because when I close my eyes it's him I see on top of me! It's not ok that I torture myself with images of him pleasuring me, loving me, brining me there!" she crossed her arms and cried like a child, while, awkwardly, Mashburn embraced her, tapping her on the shoulders, uneasy and not used to such gestures. And, apparently, Lisbon wasn't either, since, as soon as he started to try to make it better, she run into the bathroom, leaving him speechless and unsure of what to do and how to behave, other than offering Lisbon the other bed of suite, sure than there's no way she'll ever sleep with him.

When morning come, as she left again the bathroom, she quickly get dressed, hoping to be able to avoid Mashburn, that he could be one of those riches that stay in bed all day, or at least until midday, she is still too embarrassed by what happened. She had been the one to go to him. He had been the one pleasuring her. She had been the one who had called out Jane while he was pleasuring her.

"Good Morning" as she heard his voice coming from the bed, she turned to look at him, whispering back a quick "morning", still half-naked, uncomfortable, hands on her hips, eyes everywhere but at him.

"I'm glad you come over last night" there's something in his voice, she couldn't say exactly what, but she could say that, despite how their night went, he really was glad to have her there, he was glad he had been of help. She had never believed he was really a good man, but, apparently, Walt was one, indeed. And, as her usual, she couldn't choose the right and good guy. Like when in High School, she had to choose the cold-hearted bastard and venerate him from afar…

"Me too" she'd like to tell him that she was glad that she had finally managed to say the words out loud, that admitting her love to Jane had been the first step into happiness, but… she couldn't. It wasn't true. Admitting she was in love with Jane was just that, words that didn't matter a thing for the man, it wasn't going to change what there was between her and her consultant, or between her and Mashburn. It could have not changed what there was between her and Bosco, and it's with a hysterical laughter that she realized that her mentor had been right, she did too much for Jane, she exposed herself too much for him, and he wasn't worth it, probably. _Ok, maybe finally telling someone made me feel better, but that's all. I'm not going to confess my love to Jane just because I told Mashburn how I felt…_

"I'll call room service, order some breakfast"

"Sorry, can't. I'm late and the bastards keep killing people" she smiled at him. It was the first honest smile of the day, of days. She would like to accept, her stomach would like to accept, but she couldn't, not after what she had (not) done to (with) him. Besides, at the office, there's Jane, and she missed him and she was worried sick about him. Like always.

"When am I gonna see you again?" he asked, with hope and delight in his voice. Lisbon wasn't sure why, if he was just enjoying her company, or if he wanted to keep trying chasing after her. She should be flattered, really, and a part of her was, but, like the night before, a face appeared in her mind. As much as she may want Walt, he was not Jane, and she wasn't ready for someone who wasn't a blonde with curly hair and cerulean eyes named Patrick Michael Jane, not yet, and maybe never.

"Aren't you going to Europe tomorrow?"

"Yeah, two months, just boar meetings" he shook his shoulders, like it was nothing, and looked at Lisbon getting closer and closer to him, smiling, sitting on the edge of the bed. A part of him would hope that she'd throw herself at him, getting naked again, but this time ending what they started, but he knew she wasn't going to, her confession is still too fresh. She just admitted at loud loving her consultant, she'd never make love, or even have sex, with someone else.

"There you go, then" she closed the distance between them, giving him a kiss on the lips. It's a slow, sensual, and a bit lusty kiss that normally would be foreplay for something else, but, basically, she was just saying with her lips that he was a good and decent guy, and she was a stupid idiot. It wasn't a kiss of passion of love, but a kiss of gratitude. She could have kissed on the cheek, but, if she'd kissed him on the cheek, she'd felt like she was kissing her brother, so, she had preferred instead the lips. Besides, he had been so sweet, it was the least she could do to say goodbye and thanks you. "It was nice seeing you again"

"I'm a one night stand. I can't believe it" he confessed laughing, even if he hadn't been a one night stand if not in her intentions. She responded in the same way, with the biggest smile he had ever seen on her, that's quite magnificent, and he couldn't believe that Patrick Jane was so obsessed with his past to not understand what's right before his eyes…

"Well, if it can be of any consolation, I'd leave you cab fare, but I assume you already got that properly covered"

"Bye Teresa"

"Bye-Bye, Walter" he looked at her leaving the room, the last sound audible the tone of her mobile and her sweet but strong voice, giving orders to her team, telling them who was supposed to be where and do what, and where Jane could go and what he was allowed to do and say, and with s mile on his lips Walt started to reflect on how a supposed night of great wild sex turned into this, amazed. He hadn't seen that coming, he had been surprised, and he always loved surprises, considering that not many things could still had that effect on him, and women weren't surely in that category from quite a long time.

He hadn't been that surprised from her confession, though. After all, he had always seen how close Lisbon and Jane were. What had surprised him was how deep her feelings run, he hadn't seen just how much close they were, how much she cared, he hadn't seen that she was in love with him, of that kind of love that makes you lose your appetite, cause sleep deprivation, with your mind stuck on that person and that person only, all the time.

Lisbon, obviously, thought it was the worst kind of love, unrequited one, but, if he looked back at Jane's behavior, he wasn't so sure. There were small things, but… Jane cared about her, too much for being just coworkers. It was too much even for just friends, according to him (he had few women who were friends, but he didn't drive them in a Ferrari to fancy and romantic restaurant for an impromptu dinner) so, maybe, _maybe, _there was something more between them, something they weren't fully aware of yet (at least, on Jane's side. Lisbon was too aware of her feelings for the blonde), something they hadn't been able to tell each other yet.

A plan come into his mind, as he smiled, proud of himself. Europe could wait, after all he had people to attend meeting and take decision in his place. Now, he wanted to try something new._ I wonder if playing matchmaker is as funny as hunting… _if his plan was going to work, he could always repay Lisbon and Jane for the two times they had helped and/or saved him, and if Jane didn't want Lisbon, there was always a small chance of winning her heart, maybe even for a night and a night only, or maybe…after all, he could definitely see her as ex wife number four, who knows.

The ball was soon going to be on Patrick Jane's part of the camp. Whatever was going to happen, it was now up just to the blonde mentalist.


	2. Chapter 2

Oh, yes, the damn disclaimer: seriosuly, do we really have to do it? Because, Jeez, if I'd own them, I'd not be here writing it, I'd be the writeer of a TV Shows and, well, we'd have the LIsbon romance for real...meanwhile, I just **_"write, draw, create, dream, hope and believe in Bruno, waiting for him to be blessed bu the light of reason..." _**(No, this discalimer isn't mine, it belongs to one fo the girls who wite Mentalist fiction on the italian site efpfiction, but don't tell me many of you don't share this vision...).

that's a three part story, a different intake at the events at the end of 3.7- which I hated. I just hope thuings went as I pictured them here-nothing against mash, but Lis simply belongs to Jane, point.

* * *

Jane knew something was up when he found out Lisbon wasn't at the office, and fear found its way into his heart and mind-not fear her life, no, HIS LISBON knew how to look after herself. What he was scare of what that somebody could have found a way into her… graces, someone named Mashburn, maybe?

No, not Lisbon, not HIS LISBON: she wasn't the kind of woman who sold her body for money, she wasn't a prostitute… but she wasn't a nun either. She could do as she wished- ok, no, he didn't want her to do as she wished; he wanted her to want to do, and to do, as she wished with him.

Leaning quite comfy in his make-shift bed in the attic, Jane did what he was used to when those thoughts invaded his mind (thoughts of Lisbon with men who weren't him), and closing his eyes and smiling to himself, he let his mind wonderer in the well known territory of his fantasy world where Lisbon was… where Lisbon was his and could do as she wished of him.

He had so many fantasies of her, he realized as his boxer and trousers went around his knee, his hands circling around his length, already thrusting into his fists, moaning softly, hoping no one was going to hear him…

Sometimes, he thought only about satisfying Lisbon. Usually, in those dreams, she was sitting at her desk, and wearing, unusually, a skirt and no panties – he knew that the dream Jane had told her that having his ways with her was going to be easier with skirts and no panties. In those dreams, she was crazy about what he did to her, she couldn't help but scream as he lapped at her core and fucked her with his tongue, begging him to have mercy and fuck her for real, while torturing her own breasts through her shirt – but when he dreamt of oral sex with her, she never got the real deal.

Sometimes, he dreamt of her having his way with him. In those dreams, he woke up in a bed that wasn't his own, naked and scared, handcuffed. In those dreams, Teresa was standing at the foot of the bed, completely clothed, and slowly undressed herself. Looking at him in the eyes, she unbuttoned her blouse, discharging it on the soil, and then proceeded with trousers and socks. She made her way to the head of the bed, and she sweetly passed her fingers through his curls. She kissed him hard, pressing one hand against his already hard member, cupping it, stoking him a little, and grinning against his lips. She parted, and finished undressing, then went to seat on the mattress, by the feet of the bed, looking at him, and started to touch herself, to masturbate while moaning out of breath his name. he looked at her wanting to devour her and to jump on her, but there was nothing he could do because of the restrain- he could only look at Lisbon torturing her breast with one hand, while she was thrusting into her core with two fingers, curling them, in and out, slowly, to make it last as long as possible… he could only look at her as reached on her own her orgasm, while crying out his name like he was the one doing it, sure that every time she did it, she was thinking on him… he could feel himself getting harder and harder, could feel his member pulsating, needed to reach the release… then. Lisbon ordering him to keep his eyes open and to look at her, and her taking his whole length into her mouth, sucking it, hard, and Jane could feel it hitting the back of her throat, could feel Lisbon rolling it with his tongue, and he knew he was close, so close, but she didn't want to let him come into her mouth, as much as he wanted to. "C'mon Patrick, I know you like coming into my mouth, but that little game is for when we are at the office. When we're in bed, you know that I want to ride you…" as she said so, she impaled herself on him with a quick move, without breaking eye-contact, and as he thruster into her, she met him halfway, all the while without breaking eye-contact. It was hard and quick; he usually came almost as soon as they started, with her breast dancing into his face.

He cleaned himself, and got to seat, putting back on his clothes. He looked in front of himself, into the void, taking a big breath, concentrating to build back his usual mask. He was exhausted and sexually satisfied, but on an emotional level, it was another whole thing…

Did he enjoy those dreams? Yes. Not having a real sex life, this was the closest he got to have sex, but, yet, they weren't his favorites. His favorite dream WAS about sex, that was true, and it concerned Lisbon. What was the difference between this dream and the others? In that dream, he didn't merely have sex with Lisbon. He made love to her.

In that dream, they were looking shyly at each other, in a room by the sea. They were sitting in front of each other in a white canopy bed, both dressed in white. In that dream, he undressed her and she undressed him, slowly, and sweetly, with devotion and affection. In that dream, there weren't oral sex, or fingering or turtoured breasts. In that dream, they "merely" melted into each other, slowly, smiling sometimes, other times with tears of happiness. They kept kissing, in that dream, and often he took a glimpse of twin rings shining at their fingers, and whispered confessions of love while they reached blissful ecstasy together, at the same time, with tears in their eyes…

It was the end of the day, and he was walking to his Citroen, when he saw something he wasn't ready for- in the parking, Teresa, His Lisbon, was standing close to Mashburn. The bastard was at the side of his brand new Ferrari, and was whispering something into her ear, while nuzzling her neck and his hands… how could he dare to touch her? His hands were tracing patterns on her hip bones, and from her smile, Lisbon seemed to enjoy it, even if she wasn't touching him back.

As soon as he had seen her that morning, he had knew that she and that man had been together, and the images he had played into his mind were having two new main characters. Instead of Jane and Lisbon having sex, Jane could only imagine Lisbon and Mashburn having that great sex together. And, differently from the other ones, those ones were definitely not turning him on. He felt hit by nausea, and the only thing he could think of was breaking Walt's nose.

Which he did, by the way, shouting something in the line of "don't you dare touching her, you fucking bastard" but he wasn't sure. All he knew was that Mashburn was looking satisfied, with a bloody nose, still on the soil, that his own hand hurt, and that Lisbon didn't know if look after him or Mashburn…

At the end, she decided for slapping Jane, helping Mashburn on his feet (not too nicely, though, that made Patrick extremely happy) and sending her consultant a death glare, she retreated back into the CBI to help the billionaire.

In that moment, Jane knew he had to do something about keeping Lisbon, entering in her graces and, mostly, force her to forgive him.

She was going to love the hot bath he was going to get ready for her…


	3. Chapter 3

Oh, yes, the damn disclaimer: seriosuly, do we really have to do it? Because, Jeez, if I'd own them, I'd not be here writing it, I'd be the writeer of a TV Shows and, well, we'd have the LIsbon romance for real...meanwhile, I just **_"write, draw, create, dream, hope and believe in Bruno, waiting for him to be blessed bu the light of reason..." _**(No, this discalimer isn't mine, it belongs to one fo the girls who wite Mentalist fiction on the italian site efpfiction, but don't tell me many of you don't share this vision...).

that's a three part story, a different intake at the events at the end of 3.7- which I hated. I just hope thuings went as I pictured them here-nothing against mash, but Lis simply belongs to Jane, point.

* * *

She slammed the door of her apartment angry. It was almost ten and she hadn't had dinner yet because of a certain idiot of a consultant who had thought it was a good idea punching Walt in the nose (and she didn't want to think about how sexy and hot he had been while doing so. God, if she could have her way with him, she'd bring him back into one of the interrogation room and screwed him senseless just because of that…oh, she could see her throwing Jane against the table, and then jumping on him, riding him, the poor man scared while she was into dominatrix mode, or in a cell. Oh, yes, Patrick Jane handcuffed into a cell, and her standing in front of him, touching herself, bringing herself to orgasm while he looked at her, making him beg to allow him to have sex with her…and then riding him fast and hard, her breasts dancing on his face, slapping him…)

Walt, the poor man had just passed by to say hello before to leave for Europe- weird, she thought he'd be gone by then, but, still, it was nice seeing him again, being comforted by him, hearing him telling her everything was going to be all right, that soon all the images of Patrick Jane naked on top of her and pleasuring her were going to be just a far away memory…

Not that she really wanted to get rid of them. She was sure that, thinking about it once in a while was good, and so satisfying... she could try to deny it as long as she wanted, but every time she touched herself, every time she brought herself to sexual ecstasy stimulating with her fingers and vibrators (very big vibrators, because Jane exaggerated in everything he did, there was no reason to not believe he was normal in that department) while thinking of Jane… well, even if it was "only" self-pleasure, if done while thinking of him was so much better.

Now that she thought of it, it wasn't that weird that she had called out his name while Mashburn was fingering her- and having oral sex as well with her. She ALWAYS called out Jane's name when she touched herself. Always, and it was so good, imagining him there with her, doing all that things to her, that marvelous and heavenly things to her… undressing her, biting her nipples while fingering her, then giving her a tongue job while keeping stimulating her nipples with his fingers, and her, arching under him, closed eyes, hands in his so soft curls, and then, Jane moving, kissing her hard on the mouth, biting her lips, profaning her mouth with his tongue, licking her lips, and entering her, slowly, and making love to her. She imagined he loved the slow love making, thrusting in and out of her with a quiet rhythm, giving her time to adjust to his size, she imagined Jane kissing her slowly and sweetly then, smiling in the kisses. She imagined never stopping to kiss each other. She imagined meeting him halfway, setting the same rhythm as he did. She imagined both getting closer and closer to the high, Jane's thrusts into her becoming harder and stronger and faster. She imagined their breathing and their heartbeat becoming erratic. She imagined holding each other like for dear life, marking each other with their nails. She imagined both coming at the same time, their cries of pleasure and moans dying in their mouths as they never stopped to kiss, still smiling, with tears of pure happiness on their faces…

She was already leaning against the front door, unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans, already moaning, ready to let her fingers work their magic on her wet and pulsing centre, not giving a damn about where in her house (her living room) she was going to pleasure herself while thinking of Patrick Jane brining her there, when, her right hand already skimming over her fold, inside her panties, smiling and with a slightly different breathing, flushed, she felt something different….she smell something different. She smell food, home-made food… when had been last time she had had any? It had been so long that she had forgotten…

With a puzzled expression, Lisbon removed the hand from her panties, hoping that whoever was going to be in her kitchen couldn't understand she had tried to have a do-it-yourself orgasm as soon as she had entered her home because she had fantasized about someone (Jane) giving her a mind-blowing orgasm, when…

"Jane! What are you doing in my kitchen?" As soon as she saw him standing at the table, pans in hands, wearing a scarlet apron, grinning, she got scared and terrified. She was so scared and terrified that she almost retreated against the closest wall like a wild animal scared for its life.

Patrick Jane was in her kitchen. Patrick Jane, the same she was having perverted fantasies about, was in her kitchen. Patrick Jane, the almighty mentalist, know-it-all, able to reach into people's minds, was in her kitchen. And she couldn't help but felt embarrassed. He so knew it. Oh Lord, she could almost hear him making dirty comments about her having an orgasm on her own while thinking of them having sex… Actually, she could imagine him making comments about this discovery, with a low, sexy, husky voice, his breath hot on her neck between kisses on her lips and neck, grinning against her skin, while his hands were already busy removing slowly and seductively her clothes, with reverence and devotion, like she was a goddess…_I'm flattered you think of me in the hour of need, Lisbon dear, and I think you deserve to know that it's to you that my mind goes to when I need to take problems into my own hands…_

"What about the smile and red face, Lisbon dear?" his voice, his real, grinning voice, brought her back to reality, and Lisbon felt like going to hide six feet under. She looked at Jane, standing in front of her, and gulped, unable to say a sole word. She couldn't believe it. Patrick Jane was making her dinner, in a scarlet apron…

_And when he moved past the table that was hiding him from the waist down, she noticed he wasn't wearing any clothes under it- at least, nothing from the waist down. Jane joined her, offering a glass of red wine, and while drinking it, Lisbon couldn't help but grin and look at the man in front of her. She skimmed on the apron, on his groin, and then squeezed his member through the fabric… "Well, well, well, someone made himself at home, I see…"_

_ He made her gulp when he took Lisbon for the hips, making hers collide with his owns, so that she could feel better how excited he was and how much he wanted her "Sorry sweetheart, but even if I come here with the purest intentions, as soon as I walked past that door, I started to imagine you wearing only a football jersey, and my pants and boxers were really too constrictive. I had to do something about it, and somehow, I think you don't mind."_

_"Not at all, Jane" she got a hold of his erection, and started to massage him, then, from skimming and massaging, she moved to squeezing it hard, allowing Jane to thrust into her hands._

_"Allow me, Lisbon dear" grinning, while she was pleasuring him, Jane unzipped her pants, and quickly inserted 2 fingers inside her, thrusting as hardly as he could "you're so wet, dear. Tell me, were you thinking of me? I bet you were going to masturbate in the living room fantasizing about us having wild sex wherever we could in this house…it's funny, because I always think of you handcuffing me when I jerk off…"_

_"You…know…me…so…well…"_

_"Yeah, and I…. bet that I can… make you come…so many…times…" he moaned as he started to kiss her hard on the mouth, and, at the same time, with his free hand, he started to unbutton her blouse and push up her bra, out of the way, taking her nipples between two fingers and striking them hard, while stroking her centre as well and then…_

"Allow me to offer you a glass of merlot and a hot bath with a lot of bubbles and lavender salt for my lady." As she heard the words "Allow me" Lisbon become as red as a tomato, and couldn't stand his eyes. Taking the glass in her hands, without adding another word, Lisbon retreated to the almost safety of her bathroom, looking mortified. She couldn't stand the thought that she couldn't stay five minutes about having dirty fantasies about Jane. She couldn't stand his grin. She couldn't stand that he so knew she wanted nothing more than making love to and with him. She got even redder only when, from upstairs, she heard him shouting, amused. "I settled the candles you love so much and incense as well! And there's a CD in the stereo with relaxing songs!" From his voice, she could say he was grinning, and from the way he was grinning, she understood he knew her mind was filled with indecent thoughts of the two of them. What she didn't understood, and what she didn't saw, was Jane's "victory dance", done as soon as she couldn't see him any longer, nor she knew what was going through his mind… _Yes! Gotcha! Take that, Mash! Lisbon wants me! You may have had sex with her, but it's me she thinks about when she is with men and herself! Ah! This night, sweetheart, you'll be mine! _

Half an hour later, Lisbon was still in the tub, mortified, when Jane entered with an almost apologetically expression and offered her a second glass of wine. When she didn't move, he simply got to sit with his back against the tub, looking in front of her, the glass on the pavement. They sat in silence, not really knowing what to say or what to do. How was he supposed to tell her she wasn't allowed to date anyone but him, that seeing her, thinking of her, with other men, destroyed him? How could she tell him that it had been a lifetime since she had had sex, because she couldn't avoid thinking about him every time she felt the need and the pleasure? How could she tell him that it wasn't only the sex she wanted for him, but everything?

Almost without thinking, Lisbon started to pass her fingers through his curls, massaging his scalp sweetly and slowly. He purred like a cat, and smiled. They both moved, so that they now were face-to-face, and she felt butterflies in her stomach as she saw HIS smile, his real, honest smile. Without thinking, she removed the distance between them, and kissed him fully on the lips, slowly, sensually, with love and not only lust. She felt like crying when Jane answered to the kiss with just as much passion as her.

She needed him, and from the look of things, he seemed to want her as well, so, grabbing him for the collar, she made him almost collapse in the tub with her. If getting him wet was the only thing she could so in order to have sex with the man, so be it. She wasn't going to allow Jane to escape or retreat, she wanted to have him and she was going to have him, even if she had to abuse of him. "Fuck me, Jane…" she wasn't begging like with Mashburn, when she was imagining Jane doing all those things to her. No, she was ordering him to take her then and there… but Jane's answer WAS retreat. Looking almost scared, he went against the opposite wall, pushing his back against the hard surface, looking at Lisbon with eyes wide open, stuttering his justifications.

"Li… Li… Lisbon, I… I... don't think. I don't think we… we should. I… I can't… what you are asking me… besides, you… you just slept with Walt and…"

"YOU CAN'T? BE HONEST FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, AND JUST TELL ME YOU DON'T WANT ME, JANE! AT LEAST MAYBE I'LL STOP CARING SO MUCH ABOUT YOU AND WANTING TO HAVE SOMETHING WITH YOU" screaming, she emerged in all her naked, soaped and wet glory from the tub, without caring he was still there, staring at her, and stormed out of the bathroom, just to come back for few seconds, still screaming and pointing, angrily, a finger directly into his eyes. He was so glad that Lisbon was naked… first, now he could stop imagining in his wet dreams how she could be, and simply visualizing her as she really was, and second, no clothes, meant no gun. "AND, BY THE WAY, I DIDN'T SLEEP WITH MASHBURN! I TRIED, I REALLY DID, BUT WE HAD TO STOP BECAUSE, GUESS WHAT, OH GREAT AND ALMIGHTY MENTALIST? I MOANED _YOUR NAME! I BEGGED YOU _TO HAVE ME!"

With that, Lisbon stormed again out of the room, and went into her own, slamming the door hard, leaving a stunned Jean behind. He realized that he had been so upset by the possibility of Lisbon and Mashburn together that he had kind of (big time) missed the signals. Lisbon not only wanted him and not the billionaire, but she wanted to be with him and him only. She couldn't bear the thought of someone else touching her, possessing her… that wasn't lust, if she was only after sex, she'd been with Mashburn, with Bosco, Cho or some random guy met at the bar. If she really thought only of him, if she wanted him to be hers only, then it could mean one thing and one thing only…

With a happy smile, clapping his hands, Jane moves to her door, and gently knocked, sing-singing amused and with a thrill of anticipation. Not only Lisbon was going to be his for the night, but if he was right in his assumption, there was a good chance she was going to be his for the rest of their lives! "Lisbon! Open the door! You know I can always pick the lock, and I doubt you want to waste a really good one like this!"

"SCREW YOU! I DON'T NEED YOU REPEATING ME YOU DON'T WANT ME!"

"If you only would allow me to end my sentences, once in a while, I'd tell you that I don't want to "fuck you", as you so nicely put it, but there's nothing in the world I'd be more than happy to do than making love to you, but since you aren't obviously interested, I think I'll go!"

Less than five seconds later, with Jane still standing in front of her door with crossed arms, extremely proud of himself, Lisbon, dressed with not her usual football jersey, but a white, romantic nightgown, knee-length and sleeveless, opened the door, wide, and looked, pale and stunned, at the man in front of her she was speechless, and voiceless: If what he had told her was true… "Jane… what… why…"

Even if Jane could see the tears running down her cheeks, he still smiled, happy and ecstatic, as he took her hands in his owns, and he kept smiling as he brought her to him, as he forced her lips to collide with his own in a sweet, loving, long kiss… and only when she started to kiss him back, when his hands went to cup her face, when hers took hold of his curls, he realized he was crying as well.

Before, to move her to the bed, he closed the door of the room, hitting it with his foot, without breaking the kiss, and then moved Lisbon, walking backward, to the bed, and when they were almost falling on it, he stopped, finally breaking the contacts of their lips and looked at her. It was like his dream coming true. He couldn't believe it. They were looking at each other with love, affection, devotion and reference, almost shy. Keeping his eyes closed, he kissed her once again, and allowed his hands to feel her under his fingertips, her face, her smile, her tears, like that time he had been blind. "Teresa, are you sure…"

"Yes" she only answered, kissing him back, sweetly, but quickly. Only then, Jane started to undress her, taking his time, looking at her with such a feeling… Lisbon bit her lips as their eyes met, she felt like a goddess.

"My God, Teresa, you are so… you are so beautiful…" He whispered still crying as he kissed her again, once she was fully naked in front of him.

She simply smiled, then grabbed him again for the collar, and was the one to whisper. "Now, Patrick, I think it's my turn. You're wearing way too many clothes…" she repeated Jane's same actions, as slowly as he had done them, maybe even taking more time, if possible. As soon as he was standing fully naked in front of her, Lisbon couldn't stop to stare at his eyes and his chest (she had never thought that, in such a situation, she'd looked at his eyes or his chest. She definitely had another part of his anatomy in mind, when she thought of this kind of situations involving her and Jane). She couldn't stop to look at his eyes because all she saw was love and devotion. And she couldn't stop to smile while looking at his chest because…

"What's so funny, woman?"

She laughed, and she couldn't believe she was laughing while naked in front of a naked Jane, and pressed her lips to his owns again "I never pictured you as the muscular type, that's all"

"Well, I've never pictured you as the romantic nightgown kind of gal, but, you know, you ARE the romantic nightgown kind of gun, so…"

While Lisbon giggled, he took her in his arms, bridal style, and moved the both of them to lie on the bed, on top of the jeans colored blankets, and held her like for dear life. They started to kiss again, angrily, with passion, and never stopped, not even when he positioned himself on top of her, at her opening, not when he did enter her, with a slow movement, delicately, so that she could get used to his size (_I was right, Nothing about Patrick is average) _and at having a man, a real man, inside of herself after so long, they never parted when he started to thrust inside of her, slowly and delicately, rolling on the bed, embraced. They never parted when the movement of her hips started to be in perfect synch with his owns, or when, feeling that they were both getting closer, he moved inside of herself harder, faster and stronger. They never parted when they breathing and their heartbeats become erratic. They never parted when they moaned and sighed in pleasure. They never parted as they cried each other's name in ecstasy as they reached their high together at the same time, their cries dying in their throat.

When they finally parted, though, Lisbon could feel Jane's tears on her face, and looked at him, not in confusion, but with a look she recognized very well, the same look he was sending her.

He smiled as he gave her a peck on the lips, embracing her again, covering her with the blankets and cuddling against her, his chest against her back. "If I'm having my usual dream, please don't wake me up" she could feel him sliming against her neck, and all she wanted to do was smiling.

"Well, apparently, our dreams aren't so different, Mr. Jane" she turned in his embrace, and kissed him quickly on the lips, still smiling "and tell me, how does this dream of yours usually end?"

He moved to be on one side, his weight on his elbow, the other hand busy stroking affectionately Lisbon's hair, and looked at her with a great smile that reached his eyes, probably one of the few honest smiles she had ever seen him wear since they had met years before, breaking his dialogue once in a while to plant sweet kisses all along her face and shoulders "Well, it usually end with me telling you how beautiful, marvelous, incredible, strong, carrying, sweet and passionate you are. It ends with me telling you how you've made me wish to keep living, but mostly, it ends with me telling you" he took, a big breath, gulping, a bit scared, looking into her eyes, his blue waves into her green field "that I'm in love with you."

She smiled, bright as he had never seen her before, the most beautiful thing in the whole world, and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Well, you are lucky, then, Mister, because I happen to be in love with you as well, and since you are such a wonderful man, but you can be also a jerk and a pain of my existence, I fear I'll have to stick around for a long time to come…"

Smiling at Lisbon, he captured her lips again, rolling them both so that he could be again on top of her, ready to show again to HIS WOMAN how much he wanted her- and that now that he got her, she wasn't going to get rid of him that easily, he was going to show her that from then on, she no longer had to crave his touch, because he was more than glad to oblige.


End file.
